Dystopia: Loss
by Shadowed Chaos
Summary: (Re-written and expanded on) Not every mech who carries has a happy ending. Vortex/Air Raid, ?/Air Raid. Dystopia Verse.


**Notes**: Air Raid, Fireflight and Vortex based off the G1 Cartoon. This is set in the Dystopia verse and is spoilery re: pairings at the very least.

**Loss**

"... Vortex?" Air Raid shifted under the helicopter as he spoke, a little nervous, but if he played this right, which he hoped that he did, no one would really have to know about .. well.. _it_. The only ones who knew were his teammates, who'd helped hide it behind Superion's firewalls and create fool proof false memories. And that was after he begged. They _still_ hadn't forgiven him for what he'd done.

It wasn't that he was ashamed of it - the sparkling he carried, that was - but he knew his master. Vortex _would_ jump to conclusions, wouldn't listen that it had been _unwilling_, and then all of them - him, the innocent life that he carried and his teammates - would _suffer_. Not something that Air Raid wanted, ever. It was one thing for him to suffer when Vortex was in a mood, but when it came to this. No. He wouldn't pay a price for something that he'd had no control over, _ever_.

"Hmmm?"

"I'm carrying." He blurted it out just like that, watching the Combaticon and at the huh look, he forged on, spinning a lie to protect _himself_. "It's about right - I mean, either the first or the second time we spark to sparked. I guess I just got lucky...?"

Vortex blinked under the visor, then shifted against Air Raid, frowning as he tapped claws against a seam that he'd recently dug into. He wasn't stupid. The attention his favourite had been getting from another mech _hadn't_ gone unnoticed; yet while Air Raid brushed him off... Hm. "Show me."

Air Raid nodded and accessed the false memories, titling his helm to the side where the best jack-in port lay. Vortex jacked in. It was an agonising few seconds before he pulled out. Air Raid didn't even want to cycle intakes, too worried over what was going to happen. What if they didn't fool him? Vortex was an _interrogator_, for Primus Sakes. He hacked mechs for a living and Air Raid, for all his status 'favoured' was still a _slave_. If the deception was uncovered.. ..

"I see. Heh. Guess it runs in the unit."

"It does?" Air Raid blinked.

"Yea. Onslaught installed a lock on the creation matrix in Swindle. Fragger got the _brilliant_ idea to carry a sparkling for one who couldn't.. at a very high price." Vortex snickered. He'd gotten the glory of sitting on Swindle's legs while (one very _unhappy_) Onslaught installed the lock. He'd been shoo'd out after but Swindle had been in the repairbay for _megacycles_ after.

"Oh." Air Raid inwardly thanked Primus and whatever other gods he knew of that he _wasn't_ one of the lucky ones and what he carried was the product of about ten spark rapes – _the ultimate violation_ any Cybertronian could endure. Not that it made it any better, but... It helped. Maybe. He didn't know and didn't really even want to _think_ about how the sparkling had come about. As it was, he likely wouldn't be creating again in the near future, given he was one of an older generation who only had less than 30% chance at successfully creating the carnal way. He knew that Silverbolt and Fireflight were barren though - a virus had literally taken that away from them and ruined Slingshot's creation matrix to about a 3% chance to create. He knew that it wasn't as isolated as it was said to be either, especially in his generation, and some of the post war generations. It just wasn't talked about. Which was fine by him, all things considered when it came to creation _that_ way.

"I suppose I'll have to careful now." Vortex grinned darkly down at him, tapping a seam before sliding off. Until the sparkling was 'born', he'd tolerate any behaviour outbursts.

* * *

_**NO**_! Was the first thing that flashed though Air Raid's head when the pains started several orns too soon. He curled up where he was, optics white.

"NO!" It didn't help that he was in a public place either, or it might have, as mechs were rushing to see what was wrong because healthy mechs - slave or not - _didn't_ just curl up in the street. He felt hands on his shoulders, trying to pry him out of the foetal position, but it was no use; the best they got was a look at the nasty looking - but harmless unless Vortex fiddled with it for whatever reason - collar on him. It signalled that he was property of the head interrogator.

"Who's head of interrogations?"

"Vortex, I think."

"Get him and a medic, stat! He's purging!" That distance voice sounded like a femme. Primus bless them, Air Raid thought before another spasm of pain took him. It hurt like the pits and he bit back a whimper; he'd had _worse_ at Vortex's hands.

He clawed at his own chest plating, crying out as another spasm racked his frame, and though he hated this weakness, there was little that he could _do_. It wasn't time and dimly, he wondered if _this_ was the reason why creation via spark to sparking had been so tightly controlled; because of the risks. Because of the fragging risks and the pain and the agony that seemed to be ripping his spark in two as his creation's life sundered and guttered. It _had_ to be it. There was no other reason he could think of.  
To think the Decepticons _preferred_ this method of creation. _Madness_.

Somewhere, inside, he just wanted this to _end_.

Somewhere, in the dim haze of pain, he was aware of a voice shouting medical orders, of Vortex's hands on him, prying him roughly out of the curled up position and the combaticon's – not worried. Decepticon's didn't do worry or other positive-inclined emotions – face in his vision.

After that, nothing; only pain as his world seemed to crash down on him in the most horrifyingly painful way possible.

* * *

"Raid!"

He looked up weakly as he spotted Fireflight and smiled from his position on the medical berth. A long chain snaked its way down from his collar and attached at a point under the berth, but the flier hardly cared. It wasn't as if he was going to try and escape. Even if he did, he'd not get far. The Combaticons would only take it out on the rest of his team. "Hey. I'm surprised that you come."

"... I heard that you lost it?"

"Yea... " Air Raid looked down at his hands, rubbing his sparkplates sadly. "It would have been a 'Con they said. "

"You mean they hope?"

Air Raid nodded as he curled up on himself. "Vortex hardly cares and he's going to want me to..."

That was the impression the flier got from the rotary and his mind _refused_ to accept what he'd seen in the few kliks before he'd blacked out from the pain earlier. It didn't make sense. Decepticons had no true positive emotions.

Fireflight leaned over and drew his brother into a hug, snuggling him. "Shhh.. It's alright."

Air Raid gave a silent whimper as he felt the gestalt bond open fully in what had to be the first time in a long, long time and he wrapped himself in it, his pain shared by his teammates. It would never be alright, though in time the pain would ease. It would have to.

It just _had_ to ease.


End file.
